Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Korea North and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976.
I was there at the first Buzzcocks show in Bolton.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Hong Kong and Accra.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Edmonton kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1976 at the first Feelies practice in a loft in Haledon.
I was working on the 808 sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Throbbing Gristle to the rap kids.
I played it at Cafe Wha.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by London Community Gospel Choir. All the underground hits.
All Pussy Galore tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Mars record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal funk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying an arpeggiator and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Angry Samoans record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a theremin.
I hear that you and your band have sold your theremin and bought a güiro.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Junior Murvin,
Yazoo,
Bobby Hutcherson,
Unrelated Segments,
The Sound,
Shuggie Otis,
Ronnie Foster,
Rhythim Is Rhythim,
Vainqueur,
Sun Ra,
Bootsy's Rubber Band,
Ultimate Spinach,
Rites of Spring,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
Pere Ubu,
The Mummies,
John Foxx,
Max Romeo,
Inner City,
Y Pants,
ABC,
The Litter,
Curtis Mayfield,
The Neon Judgement,
Patti Smith,
Pagans,
Gabor Szabo,
8 Eyed Spy,
kango's stein massive,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Shoche,
Nirvana,
The Human League,
Soul Sonic Force,
X-Ray Spex,
Con Funk Shun,
Man Parrish,
Morten Harket,
Johnny Osbourne,
The Index,
Public Enemy,
Sarah Menescal,
The Chocolate Watch Band,
Rakim,
Mad Mike,
Lou Reed,
Bobbi Humphrey,
Gerry Rafferty,
Average White Band,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Rotary Connection,
Symarip,
Crooked Eye,
Graham Central Station,
Nils Olav,
Moebius,
Yaz,
Mr. Review,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
Trumans Water,
Parry Music,
Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour, Sound Behaviour.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.